SSS Ranked Summoning: I'm An Extra With The Strongest Harem System
Chapter 40: Son(2)[Bonus]

Chapter 40: Son(2)[Bonus]

Mikey exhaled shakily, trying to keep his nerves steady, but his body betrayed him.

His fingers twitched as his breath hitched, and he could feel the sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

Son, out of habit, cracked his knuckles unconsciously—a reflex ingrained in him since childhood. His gaze flickered back to Mikey, who lay sprawled before him.

Around them, the entire gang stood frozen in stunned silence, their faces a mix of awe and disbelief. Mouths hung open, eyes wide with sheer bewilderment at what had just transpired. But Son wasn’t paying them any mind.

His attention was locked solely on Mikey.

And in that brief moment, as their eyes met, Mikey read everything—every intention, every thought—etched across Son’s face in a single glance.

It was a look of pure, unfiltered malice. A quiet, smoldering intensity that promised devastation. The way Son stood there, relaxed yet exuding an almost unnatural fierceness, sent a fresh wave of dread crawling up Mikey’s spine.

This was a guy who could break him without a second thought, there was no question.

Then it happened. Son took a deep breath, a slow inhale through his nose, and smiled.

"Oh, fuck." he murmured, tilting his head as if he had just realized something amusing.

"Oh, fuck. That must have hurt." He muttered as he took a quick glance at the unconscious Lil Jim. His voice was casual, almost mocking, but there was something terrifying about the way he said it. Like he truly didn’t care. Like pain was nothing but an afterthought to him. Mikey swallowed hard, his mind racing.

’How strong is this guy?’

He had heard stories about Son Parker before. Everyone had. The so-called "Untouchable One." A natural-born fighter, lightning-fast in the ring, with reflexes so sharp that dodging punches was second nature to him.

People compared his speed to a ghost slipping through the shadows—unhittable, untouchable. And now Mikey had just witnessed firsthand what that kind of skill looked like.

Because the man Son had struck down? He wasn’t just some nobody. He was twice Son’s size, built like a tank, and he had dropped like a sack of bricks from a single hit.

And that was just for disobeying an order.

Mikey’s stomach twisted. If that was what happened to someone who merely disobeyed Son, then what the hell was going to happen to him? He was short $7,000. Seven. Thousand. Dollars. There was no coming up with it now.

A voice cut through his panic, sharp and clear.

"Don’t worry."

Mikey’s head snapped up, meeting Son’s gaze which was directly at him now, his expression unreadable. He spoke with a calm, almost reassuring tone, as though he hadn’t just knocked out a man cold.

"I hit him with almost half my strength. He’ll be fine. It’s just a little sting."

He said it so easily, as if it didn’t matter. As if he hadn’t just collapsed a man’s entire body with a single blow. Then, without missing a beat, he turned and walked toward Mikey, extending a hand.

"I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about me." Son said smoothly.

"I don’t assault my business partners."

Mikey hesitated. His body tensed, uncertain whether taking that hand would seal his fate or save him. But after a beat, he reached out, their palms meeting. Son pulled him up effortlessly, a small grunt escaping Mikey’s lips as he got back on his feet.

"Wow." Son mused, giving Mikey’s forearm a playful slap, which might have seemed like nothing, but to Mikey, it carried quite the sting.

"You’re lighter than you look."

He chuckled, and Mikey forced himself to laugh along, though it sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"You need a smoke?" Son asked, already reaching into his pocket.

"N-No, I don’t smoke." Mikey replied quickly.

Son raised an eyebrow, slightly bewildered.

"Really? Man, you’re missing out on life." He pulled out a cigarette anyway, lighting it up and taking a slow drag. The glow of the ember reflected in his eyes as he exhaled, the smoke curling upward like a ghostly wisp.

Mikey could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Every second that passed felt like borrowed time, and then, atlast the million dollar question was dropped—

"So, Lil Dicky." Son said, exhaling another puff of smoke,

"where’s my money?"

Mikey’s blood ran cold. His stomach lurched as if he had just been dropped from a great height. This was it. The moment he had been dreading.

His mind raced, searching in that brief moment for the "right answer".

’How should I go about this? Should I lie? No. Not entirely. A good lie needs a hint of truth, that’s how the Jardashians do it.’ He had to be casual. Convincing. Maybe even a little humorous.

"Uh, yeah, the $7,000." Mikey stuttered, forcing a grin. "I, uh... I have it with me."

Son’s expression didn’t change. He simply took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled through his nose, the smoke curling lazily around his face.

"Yeah?" he mused.

"Well, where is it?"

Mikey hesitated.

"It’s, uh... it’s in my backpack."

Son’s smile didn’t waver, but something shifted in his posture. "Where’s my fucking money, Lil Dicky?"

"I-It’s back in my class." Mikey stammered as he could feel his fear gentlu returning back to him.

Son went quiet for a moment, simply studying him. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating and Mikey could feel the sweat trailing down his spine as he, along with the other Iron Vipers, awaited Son’s reply. And then—

Tap.

Son’s hand landed on Mikey’s shoulder. A light touch. Barely any pressure. And yet, Mikey flinched like he had been struck.

His eyes flickered to Son’s hand, then up to his face. Son was still smiling, but his eyes... those damn eyes. There was no warmth there. Only cold amusement.

"It’s back in your class? You should’ve just said so." Son muttered lightly. Then—

WHAM!

A knee struck Mikey’s stomach, ramming into his solar plexus with full force, resulting in a choked gag escaping his lips as all the air was knocked from his lungs. His vision blurred, his body convulsed, and before he could even register the pain, he was already falling down to his knees.

What followed was another devastating impact—a second knee, brutal and unrelenting, slamming into his face with bone-rattling force. The sharp crack echoed in the air, and almost instantly, warm blood spilled from his nose, streaming down in thin, crimson rivulets.

BAM!

Son then proceeded to directly kick Mikey’s face. His head snapped back violently, pain ricocheting through his skull as he hit the ground hard, his limbs sprawled out, blood dripping from his nose, his mouth, his everything. His vision swam, and for a terrifying second, he thought he might black out.

But it wasn’t over.

Stomp.

A heavy boot pressed against his face, shoving him down. Above him, Son loomed, his expression now twisted into something cruel and impatient.

"You must take me for a fool...don’t you..." he murmured, applying more pressure.

"...Lil Dicky."

Mikey gasped, his body writhing under the weight, and then—

CRACK!

The final kick sent his world spinning. His head slammed into the pavement. A burst of light flashed behind his eyelids, as he could feel his consciousness slowly leaving him.

The world around him blurred for a moment, the sharp sting of pain followed by a nauseating dizziness.

His breath hitched as the realization set in—this was no ordinary attack. The sheer force behind that kick was immense, enough to make his head bounce against the cold, unyielding concrete.

Then came another.

This time, the impact was even worse. He felt it reverberate through his entire body, as if his brain had physically shifted inside his skull.

His vision darkened at the edges, pain exploding behind his eyes. For a brief second, everything slowed and he could feel the dull pulse of agony syncing with his heartbeat, the taste of iron pooling in his mouth.

’ Shit...I can barely feel my legs now...Is-Is this the full power of Son Parker!’

A laugh—low and bitter—escaped from Son’s lips, barely more than a rasp. Mikey, on the other hand, wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his fingers trembling slightly.

"Why’d it have to come to this, Lil Dicky?" he murmured, his voice hoarse but carrying an undeniable edge.

"We had a good thing going. We could have been best friends! Buy you just had to go fuck it all up!"

He exhaled sharply, the metallic taste of blood thick in his throat.

"But now...you’ve left me no choice."

Mikey planted a hand on the ground, forcing himself up despite the ringing in his ears, despite the way his limbs screamed in protest. His body was battered, but his mind clearly understood what was to come.

Son’s fingers clenched into a fist as he tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

" And now, now I’m gonna have to fucking kill you."

Mikey might not have been the most talkative person, but with just one glance into Son’s eyes, he knew one thing for certain— he wasn’t bluffing.

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